Page 37 of Ship of Fools

“Luca. Italian.”

“Oh, yes.” She sighs. “Mum gets all confused. She keeps mentioning Lucas.”

“Okay…”

I don’t know what to say. She shrugs her shoulders and leads me out into the gardens. Well, it’s a stone clad patio with a path leading to a pool area. Palm trees and plants that look almost plastic lining the sides in ornate tubs. It looks more like one of those holiday hotels that I’ve seen in the travel agent windows, than a home for a family. I should have guessed, because seeing what I see now? I should have read between the lines.

And knowing what I know now? I should have sat Andreas down and talked this through, instead of letting him get thrown into what is obviously a lion’s den.

There are shouts and arguing going on inside, the voices carrying through the open glass doors as I take a seat under an oversized umbrella, next to who I assume is Nina, Andreas’ sister. I realise I know nothing about her, well apart from that Andreas rarely speaks to her, and she travels a lot and probably has a job, but nothing that has been mentioned. I realise that I am as bad as them, knowing nothing about the people who have so graciously invited me into their home... I think.

I get up, my heart beating too fast, after a particularly loud exchange of words, wanting to go and get Andreas out of there. Because this? This is not fun. This is awful and…

“Don’t.” Nina says, tugging at my arm, until I sit myself back down next to her. “Let them shout it out. I told Mum to fucking leave it alone, but she is so bloody pig-headed, and Dad? God help him, bloody idiot.”

“What’s going on?” I hiss. “What the hell are they doing to him?”

“Oh, just the usual, you know. “You’re a disappointment, get a decent job, you wasted your education-gay-bashing-embarrassment-to-the-family-name kind of speech. I get them yearly too, minus the gay-bashing bit, obviously, but it takes a while, and then we don’t really speak for the rest of the festive season.”

She does an eyeroll over the word festive.

“You know you won’t be able to share a room, don’t you? You know you will be described as Des’ single colleague, and not his partner. They’ll turn it into a joke, saying they invited you as eye-candy for the ladies or some other chauvinistic crap like that. Just go with it, and for god’s sake don’t cause a scene, because Des will get the blame, and all hell will break lose. The Callens are arriving this evening, they are staying in the guest suite, and the Broomwood-Carters are staying in the pool house. At least with a load of people here, Mum and Dad will play the gracious hosts, and anyway, Mum will be drunk by teatime and we can all sneak out and go partying. Welcome to the family.”

She snorts as she waves to a woman wearing a white apron, who is clearing down a table by the pool below us, and then Nina swiftly shouts out orders for two glasses of sangria and a couple of Coronas, not even asking what I want. Well, I assume she ordered for us both, as I am too startled to speak.

This? This is not the… I can’t even describe it.

“You call him Des?” I question. Because I can’t think of anything else to say.

“Desmond. I think he goes by his middle name now, but Mum and Dad, you know. It’s a family name.”

Now it’s my turn to snort.

“I can’t call him that... Ever. It’s…” Yeah. Now I’m being rude and judgemental. I didn’t know that, and I should have. Why the hell didn’t I know his full name? I laughed at his passport photo just this morning…

“It’s a shite name. Wanna know mine?”

“Nina?” I say.

“Winnifred.” She laughs. “After my father’s grandmother. She was a fucking witch, apparently, but so bloody respected in the family. My parents and all their fucking ideas.”

She doesn’t even thank the woman who sets down the drinks on the table next to us, a middle aged lady who is backing off quietly instead, as Nina hands me a Corona bottle, complete with a lime wedge in the neck.

“I don’t drink, Nina.” I say, because what am I supposed to say?

“Fuck off.” She snorts. “We will need to get Des drunk tonight. He’s fucking hilarious when he gets a few shots down his neck and starts chatting up the waiters down at the Beach club. Highlight of my night.”

I think I liked her for a second there, but now?

I wanted to go find Andreas and drag him out of here. I wanted to go home. I suddenly hated the sun and blue skies, and the now stifling heat that had started to fade into the afternoon, and I felt like an idiot.

I should have been grateful, because Andreas had booked, paid and organised this whole adventure to introduce me to his family. And I had been looking forward to it, because he would finally let me in to this whole side of his life, that I frankly knew so little about.

We’ve been together for almost a year, and suddenly I feel like I barely know him. Yet, I know every little freckle on his skin, and every way to make him laugh. I know how he likes his toast in the morning, and I know to make him orgasm in a few minutes flat. I know to read every label on every piece of food that we buy, and I keep his EpiPen in my pocket whenever we leave the house. I know how to love him, and soothe him, and I know how to edge him until he cries. I know his fears and hopes and dreams… Well, I hope I do, but I definitely didn’t know… about this.

We have laughed, cried, loved and hurt, in so many different ways that I can’t start to describe it. For the first time in my entire life, I feel complete, and that, is a feeling I can only explain as bliss. I know who I am, I know what I want, and I have everything I could ever ask for.

I have him, and he has me, and this?

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